


bed of lies

by scionavarielle



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-09 04:29:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3236252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scionavarielle/pseuds/scionavarielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But do you ever think that I could lie? Lie down in our bed, our bed of lies</p><p>Translated to English version</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bahasa Version

**Author's Note:**

> been a long time since I wrote in my own language and since I was listening to this song on my way home.  
> Then I thought, it's so lahmsteiger, so why not?

_Do you ever think of me, when you lie?_ __  
Lie down in your bed, your bed of lies  
And I knew better, than to look in your eyes  
They only pretend, you will be mine  
And you know how you made me, believe  
You had me caught in every web, that you weaved  
But do you ever think of me, when you lie?  
Lie down in your bed your bed of lies

_._

Diselimuti oleh kegelapan malam dan hanya bermandikan sedikit cahaya bulan, dalam ruangan yang remang-remang, kau menatap sosok yang sedang menindihmu. Kau tak memerlukan cahaya untuk melihat wajahnya. Semuanya sudah tertanam di dalam ingatanmu. Garis wajahnya, hidungnya yang mancung, alis matanya, pipinya, semua sudah tercetak dengan jelas. Bahkan dengan mata terpejam dan sebuah pensil dalam tanganmu, kau dapat menggambar sketsanya – jika kau dapat menggambar tentu saja.

Tangannya menyentuh pipimu dengan lembut, berpapasan dengan keringat dan air matamu yang membasahi pipimu. Kau mengerang, mendesah, bersamaan dengan gerakan yang dilakukannya di atasmu. Dia memasukimu kemudian menggesek dinding rektummu, mengeluarkan kejantannya kembali, melakukan gerakan yang sama dengan sudut yang berbeda, mencari titik kepuasanmu. Ketika kau akhirnya mendesah dalam kenikmatan, dia menyeringai. Bibirnya mengecup pipimu, menyelusuri wajahmu, hidungmu, matamu, hingga berhenti tepat di mulutmu.

Mendesak masuk menerobos semua perlawanan yang kau lakukan. Tanganmu refleks melingkar pada lehernya, mendorong punggung kepalanya perlahan, memperdalam ciuman kalian. Tanganmu membeli surai hitam miliknya.

Diiringi dengan detak jarum jam di ruanganmu, kau kembali mengeluarkan desahan dari mulutmu. Suara yang tampak menjijikkan di telingamu, namun tak dapat kau tahan. Akal sehatmu sudah terkabuti oleh ekstasi yang diberikan oleh dia yang berada di atasmu sekarang. Tubuh kalian yang polos tak memakai apapun sesekali bergesekkan memberi kejutan listrik di sekujur tubuhmu.

Kau menangis, entah karena kesakitan atau hal yang lain. Dia hanya tersenyum, menatapmu – tapi kau tahu dia tak berani menatap matamu langsung, begitu juga dirimu.

Tangannya menyentuh kejantananmu, lembut dan menyesakkan. Dia menggesekkan tangannya pada milikmu perlahan, menambahkan rangsangan, membuatnya menegang. Gerakannya disesuaikan dengan apa yang sedang dia lakukan sedari tadi pada dindingmu. Kau hanya tergeletak pasrah, memeluk lehernya, menyerahkan semua terhadap dirinya.

Sejujurnya kau tak tahu apa arti dari yang kalian berdua lakukan saat ini.

Menghangatkan diri?

Menenangkan satu sama lain?

Entahlah, kau tak mengerti. Kau juga sudah tak peduli saat puncak kenikmatan itu tiba, membuatmu tak lama ditelan oleh kegelapan.

Hangat, itulah hal terakhir yang kau rasakan sebelum semuanya benar-benar hilang dari dirimu.

.

.

Saat kau terbangun dan membuka matamu, dikarenakan cahaya mentari yang menembus jendela, kau melihat ranjang yang sudah kosong. Kau tak bersedih, kau hanya menatapnya dengan kosong, tak berekspresi. Ini bukan kali pertama hal ini terjadi. Kau mungkin terbiasa, atau mungkin – sekali lagi – tak peduli.

Ranjangmu tampak rapi, tak terlihat terjadi aktivitas lain selain kegiatan tidurmu di atasnya. Kau menghela nafas pelan, berjalan menuju lemari bajumu, mengeluarkan t-shirt putih dan boxer. Toh, kau akan ada di rumah seharian. Lebih baik memakai sesuatu yang nyaman.

Ketika kau membuka pintu kamarmu, aroma kopi menyambutmu, kau tersenyum lembut. Seorang pria, lebih tinggi daripada pria yang berada di kamarmu sebelumnya, memiliki rambut lebih terang dan pendek daripada pria yang meninggalkanmu setelah aktivitas kalian. Pria yang kemudian membalikkan badan dan tersenyum ketika mendapati kau berdiri di sana.

”Ah Fips, kau sudah bangun?” tanyanya kepadamu. Kau mengangguk, menghampiri dirinya.

Tak membiarkan dia membalas apapun, kau memeluknya, menenggelamkan wajahmu ke dalam dada bidangnya. _Well,_ karena kau _notabene jauh_ lebih pendek darinya, tinggimu tak lebih tinggi dari perutnya. ”Fips?” terdengar bahwa pria itu bingung namun dia tetap memeluk tubuhmu, mengelus punggungmu. ”Fips? Kau tak apa? Aku dengar dari Basti katanya kau sakit kemarin. Maaf karena aku harus dinas minggu ini dan baru bisa pulang tadi.”

Mendengar satu nama itu disebutkan, kau menegang, tapi kau menenangkan dirimu kembali. Kau menatap pria yang di hadapanmu. ”Tak apa, Per. Aku sudah mendingan, Basti sudah _merawatku_ kemarin.” Pria itu – Per – tersenyum.

”Ah, kalau begitu aku senang. Oke, sekarang kau duduk dulu, aku akan masak sarapan buat kita berdua. Shoo.”

”Kau yakin tak akan menghancurkan dapur?” Kau terkekeh menggodanya.

Dia tampak cemberut dan menantangmu. ”Hei, aku tak seburuk Mesut dalam hal dapur, oke? Lagipula kau butuh istirahat.”

Kau mengangguk, lemah oleh bujukan dirinya. Kau bawa kakimu melangkah ke salah satu kursi, mendudukkanmu di sana. Matamu menatap punggung Per yang bidang. Dia bergerak ke sana kemari, seperti seorang ahli yang tahu akan apa yang dikerjakannya. Kau tersenyum. Kepalamu kau sandarkan pada salah satu telapak tanganmu, menatap sosok Per. Namun saat terpejam, ada hal lain yang kau lihat dan kembali nuranimu diuji.

.

.

Sebab namanya adalah Bastian.

Sebab namanya adalah Bastian, teman dari suamimu, Per Mertesacker.

Sebab namanya adalah Bastian, teman dari suamimu, Per Mertesacker, dan kakak tirimu.

.

.

 _Have you ever thought of me when you lie?_  
Lie down in our bed, our bed of lies  
And you should better know to look in my eyes  
They only pretend, that they don’t know  
And I know how to make you believe  
That I am caught in every web that you weaved  
But do you ever think that I could lie?  
Lie down in our bed, our bed of lies

_._

_Philipp,_

_Bagaimana rasanya mencicipi buah pengetahuan yang baik dan jahat?_

_Buah yang tak seharusnya kau makan?_

_._

_._


	2. English Version

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've decided to translate this to English. I've put some modifications but not too much to whoever has read the Bahasa version. Anyway enjoy ;) And yes, I also did 'modify' the lyrics for fanfic purposes. Haha.

_Do you ever think of me, when you lie?_  
_Lie down in your bed, your bed of lies_  
_And I knew better, than to look in your eyes_  
_They only pretend, you will be mine_  
_And you know how you made me, believe_  
_You had me caught in every web, that you weaved_  
_But do you ever think of me, when you lie?_  
_Lie down in your bed your bed of lies_

Clothed by the darkness of night and only a tiny light from the moon, in that room, you look at the figure that is on you, pressing his body with yours together. You don’t need the light to see his face. Everything is already planted in your mind. His facial lines, his sharp nose, his eyebrows, cheeks, all are memorized long time ago (not that it really matters anyway). You think, if you’re given a pencil and a gift to draw, you might be able to sketch his face – perfectly.

His hand touches your face gently, wipes your sweats and your tears that make your cheeks wet. You groan – moan – at his movement. He’s thrusting inside you, making you feel so full. He pulls himself then thrusts again. Keeps pounding you like a _beast_ he is. He thrusts at different angle, trying to find your sweet spot and when you moan in pleasure, he smirks. His lips touch your cheeks then to your eyes, nose, and then he stops at your mouth.

Claiming those red lips of yours, breaking through all failing resistance you’re doing. Your hands circle around him – in reflex, pulling his head down to deepen your kiss with him. Your hands caress his black hair.

With the clock’s sound at the background, your moan fills the room. It sounds disgusting to your ear, how you could produce such noise is what you keep thinking, but you can’t stop yourself from letting it out. Your common sense is long forgotten, replaced by the ecstasy he keeps giving you. Both your bodies – plain with no fabric on them – rub each other giving a friction that sends a shock of electricity to your body.

You cry. You can’t stop your tears from flowing down. Either it’s from the pain or _something else_ , you don’t really know. He just smiles at you, staring at you, but you – both of you – know that he doesn’t dare to look at you directly, and neither do you.

His hand touches your shaft, slow and suffocating. He rubs his hand to your shaft, ever so slowly, a little bit friction and it’s hard. His hand’s movement is similar to his thrusting. You just lie there, let him do whatever he wants to you. You have since long forgotten that _this is wrong_.

To be honest, you don’t even know what both of you are doing right now.

Calming each other?

Warming each other?

You don’t know, you don’t understand. You don’t even care when you reach your peak, swallowing you into the darkness not long after.

Warm, that’s the last thing you remember before everything’s black.

.

.

When you wake up and open your eyes, you see an empty side on the bed. You don’t look sad, you just stare at it blankly. It’s not the first this happened. You have gotten used to it already. Or maybe, you just really don’t give a damn about it.

Your bed looks tidy, not a tiny hint of what has happened on it the previous night. You take a deep breath, walk to your wardrobe then put on a white t-shirt and boxer. Since you’re going to stay all day at the house, you just thought to wear something comfortable.

When you open the door, a smell of coffee greets you, you smile tenderly. Another man, taller than the man who’s in your room before, has a brighter hair color than the previous man who just left you after your ‘business’, is there on the kitchen, humming a song. He then turns his body around and smile when he sees you there.

“Ah Fips, you woke up?” He asks. You nod, approaches him slowly.

Not letting any response, you hug him, drowning yourself in his smell while leaning on his chest. Well, since you are way far shorter than him, your height is not taller than his stomach too anyway. “Fips?” There’s a confusion inside that question but he still doesn’t let go of the hug, rubbing your back oh so softly.

(You love that and you miss loving that gently movement).

“Fips? You alright? I heard from Basti that you’re sick yesterday. I’m sorry that I just got back home this morning, the work trip is longer than I thought.”

Hearing that _one name_ being mentioned, you stood still, but soon you calm yourself again. You look at the person in front of you. “It’s alright, Per. I’m feeling better now that Basti has _taken care_ of me yesterday.”

That man – Per – looks at you, so caring. “Ah, that’s good to know. Okay, now you sit and let me prepare our breakfast. Shoo.”

“You sure you’re not going to destroy our kitchen?” You tease him.

He frowns and opposes you. “Hey!, I’m not as bad as Mesut in kitchen stuff, okay? Because, you need some rest. And just so you know, I’ve survived long enough before you came.” If you don’t know him, you might think that he will stick his tongue out at you like a kid, but this is Per we’re talking about and you know there’s no way he’s going to do just that.

You nod while bringing your feet to walk onto one of the chairs, sit there. Your eyes gaze at his broad shoulder, his back. He paces here and there in the kitchen, like an expert knowing what he does. You, unconsciously, lift up your lips, putting a smile on your face. You lean your face on one of your hand, watching Per doing his job. However, when you close your eyes, another thing comes and once again you’re being tested.

.

.

Because his name is Bastian.

Because his name is Bastian, your husband’s friend, Per Mertesacker.

Because his name is Bastian, your husband’s friend, Per Mertesacker, and your step-brother.

(and the fact that he’s the son of someone who’s responsible for your mother’s death is also left unsaid)

.

.

_Have you ever thought of me when you lie?_  
_Lie down in our bed, our bed of lies_  
_And you should better know to look in my eyes_  
_They only pretend, that they don’t know_  
_And I know how to make you believe_  
_That I am caught I every web that you weaved_  
_But do you ever think that I could lie?_  
_Lie down in our bed, our bed of lies_

_._

_Philipp,_

_How is it like to taste the knowledge fruit?_

_The fruit that you should have not eaten?_

_._

_._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedbacks are always welcome C:


End file.
